Ramblings or The House Official Fan Club
by jeevesandwooster
Summary: We love you House MD, oh yes we do. We love you House MD, and we'll be true. When it's not Tuesday, we're blue. Oh House MD we love you!
1. H A A

Disclaimer: Uh, don't legally need one...yet. You'll see. Only disclaimer needed now is, well, STAY AWAY FROM HOUSE...HE'S OURS! WE SAW YOU LOOKING AT HIM! BACK OFF!

So without any further delay: The story that you'll sympathize with…

Prologue: "H.A.A."

"Uh, hi." The girl cleared her throat, looking nervously around the room at the people staring at her. She ran her hand nervously through her short brown hair and stared at the redhead next to her for support, only to find a similar look to what she was feeling: terrified and in bad need of a fix.

"Yeah, uh...We're jeevesandwooster..."

"Hi, jeevesandwooster" chorused the rocking masses.

"Hah, uh, mmhmm..." she cleared her throat and looked at her friend again, who was staring at her Converse high-tops, "like I said, we're jeevesandwooster and we've been, uh, House-free for about, uh, two hours now." General congratulatory mumbling filled the room.

"Hah! That's better than I'VE done!" yelled someone in the back, "I've got a mini-DVD player back here and I'm watching the episode with Carmen Electra right now!"

Silence in the room.

"Th-that's our favorite episode..." the redhead spoke up at last, looking at her friend with wide eyes.

And then mayhem erupted as fistfights broke out all over the room for the best view around the guy with the DVD player.

…

So much for "House Addicts Anonymous"...

Moral of the story: There's no hope for us...so we might as well continue obsessing.

**Ok everyone, I KNOW this isn't TECHNICALLY fanfiction...yet. This is the prologue for a series of rather...interesting conversations and daydreams, some real and some fictional, detailing a pair of friends' obsession. Some fanfic may play in later. We just wanted to do something...I dunno, goofy? What do you think Jeeves? Is goofy the word I'm searching for? _Without a doubt, sir._ Alright, very well. Don't hate us. Use our review board as a chance to chat obsessively and share YOUR ridiculous daydreams.**

**Tomorrow's ridic. daydream: Hugh Laurie's car breaks down...**


	2. House's Car Breaks Down

Hey everyone! Those were seriously great reviews! On behalf of Jeeves and myself, I would like to express our EXTREME pleasure in how much fun you all are having with the posting! Sweet!

Disclaimer: Warning, this is so pathetic that you may fall into uncontrollable bouts of cruel laughter at my expense. I'll live.

Ok, so here's the first goofy daydream, coming to you direct from Wooster…

Hugh Laurie's Car Breaks Down…. What are the chances?

So I'm in my Blazer, cruisin' down the highway on the way to the mall, most specifically the bookstore. It's a piece of crap to be sure, but it's worth the manual window cranks to have my own car and to be able to go wherever whenever. Besides, it runs, it's got a huge back perfect for the drive-in theatre, and it has a CD player; what else do I need? Currently, the CD player is blasting the Jeeves and Wooster soundtrack. Geeky I know, but I'm convinced that Hugh Laurie's sweet voice in my car is as close to heaven as I'm likely to get while still breathing, that is until I see the smoke through the windshield.

It was a nice car, obviously rented if it's ridiculously pristine condition and the license plates were any indication, but nice doesn't mean anything when the engine is smoking under the hood. I pulled over, cell phone in hand in case it turns out it's occupant was a psycho killer, and cranked down the window to ask if the guy needed any help. My heart couldn't have jumped any higher if it had actually been a psycho killer. Hugh Laurie, in his scruffy, blue-eyed gorgeousness, was standing by the car looking at me as if I was a ship passing by the island he'd been deserted on for years with only a volleyball for company. I blinked once or twice; certain that this was a hallucination brought on by heat, my CD, and general obsessive-ness. But he was still there, so I cleared my voice and said in the steadiest voice I could manage, "Hi, you in trouble?"

"You could say that. I dunno what happened to this damn car," here he kicked the tire lightly, "but I've got to get to the airport and would be forever grateful if you could give me a lift." His British accent made my heart skip a beat, but I forced myself to remember that he was almost thirty years older than me. So I aimed instead to ingratiate myself to him. Didn't want him to have to run screaming, like the Beatles in Hard Day's Night. I started by teasing lightly:

"You know, I hear that they have this invention that allows you to call for help in an emergency. I believe they call it a cell phone…"

He smiled sheepishly at this; I nearly drooled in my lap. "Well, as luck would have it, I forgot to charge the bloody thing. Of all the rotten luck, huh?"

I grinned at him. Who wouldn't? "Well, hop in then, I can take you to the airport. It's not exactly on my way, but I'm not doing anything important and it's not every day my favorite actor falls into my lap."

He looks up, shocked, at this.

"You are Hugh Laurie, aren't you? Star of House MD and Jeeves and Wooster?" I grin as I turn my stereo back on. The persona of Wooster, merrily massacring the song Puttin' on the Ritz, echoed throughout the car. He looked at me, self-consciously.

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"It wasn't important. You're still a guy in need of help, whether you're a famous actor or not."

He smiled at me, pleased. "So you're a fan, eh? You obviously like J&W."

"Well sure, it's based off of one of my favorite book series. It may not be as good as the books, (no offense) but they are rather good interpretations, and you never fail to make me laugh as Bertram Wiberforce Wooster."

"So you like the books more?" I blush, realizing what I'd said but then he added, "That's good. Not enough people realize the genius of Wodehouse." I grin hugely at this. "I'm glad you like the show, however. I am a bit surprised you recognized me like that. I didn't think I was that big a star over here." What? I mean, I'd heard of this guy's self- confidence issues, but it never occurred to me that he didn't know how HUGE he was here.

"Are you kidding? You're my absolute favorite actor. Well, favorite living actor anyway. I'd recognize you anywhere. Me and my best friend are practically obsessive about House MD. It's amazing to us that you can act as two totally different characters as House and Wooster."

"Well they are completely different," he acknowledged, "House is a particularly difficult character: all orneriness and layers." I smile at this.

"Yes, but that's what makes him so interesting. Of course, it's a little more frustrating as well. In Jeeves and Wooster, you really don't want Wooster to find a girl, because it's obvious that he's destined for bachelorhood, so it doesn't matter that television series rarely have major plot resolution. With House though, I go CRAZY every time something comes between House and Cameron."

"I know, I play the character and even I get frustrated. Sometimes, I even go on this fanfiction site when I get irritated with the way the show is going. I went on a mad fanfiction spree when I had to watch Cameron walk away in the season finale…" He said this in a rush, as if he was embarrassed. I, however, was delighted.

"You read House fanfic? Sweet! What site?"

"Er," he said, a little taken aback, There's lots of good fanfic there…I rather like this one writer, jeevesandwooster…" at this point, my jaw dropped open and I nearly ran us off the road.

"Jeevesandwooster?" I squeaked. "You're kidding! Me and my friend are jeevesandwooster! We wrote that stuff! I'm Wooster, at your service. Jeeves stayed home today and boy is she going to be mad…"

He looked at me with a shocked expression, and then started to laugh. "Wow, what a small world it is. I can't believe it. You wrote that story where House and Cameron get drunk and he shows her his leg? I always thought they should do something where he shows his leg…" I was in a major state of euphoria. He likes my fanfic, he likes my fanfic, HE LIKES MY FANFIC!

"Actually, my friend and I co-wrote it, but yeah." Hey, have to give credit where credit is due, right?

Finally, we arrive at the airport, where his wife and children are waiting to keep my daydream in check. I shook his hand and blushed when he thanked me for the ride.

"Oh man, my friend is not going to believe this."

"You have the autograph on your CD as physical evidence."

"Ok, then, but she'll never forgive me for having met you without her. Still, it's her mom's fault for not letting her ride with me despite me being an excellent driver. And to think I even offered her a ride today…"

He grinned at this. "Well, I have an idea of how you can make it up to her." I looked up at him questioningly. "You see, I've got a couple favors to pull in at Fox. Maybe you and your friend would like a roll in House? You'd have to audition to see how big a roll it is, but I could definitely guarantee at least a walk-on roll for the two of you. You think she would forgive you after that?"

Did he even have to ask?

And so, all my crazed and obsessive daydreams came true. After all, it is MY daydream. Now all of you go away, I have an audition….

So there you are, the worst and most pathetic daydream ever written. Though I'm sure you've all had similar ones. STOP LAUGHING AT ME. Oh well, I'm willing to sacrifice my honor for your amusement. Tomorrows blither is Jeeves' contribution: Random IM convos…


	3. Three Conversations

Disclaimer: Again, unnecessary

Three Conversations

**Jeeves: You know what sucks?**

Wooster: What?

**J: I missed the deadline to be a candy striper at X (Local teaching hospital).**

W: I'm sorry.

**J: Yeah, X is the closest thing to Princeton-Plainsboro this side of the Mississippi... and reality.**

W: All too true.

HOUSEMDHOUSEMDHOUSEMDHOUSEMDHOUSEMD

W: I just want you to remember, when you receive this amazing present for your birthday from me, that I found it at the dollar store.

**J: Is it House?**

W: Right, Jeeves. They were selling House at the dollar store. If house was for sale at the dollar store, I certainly wouldn't buy him for you.

**J: Aww. Is it Han Solo?**

W: I'd keep him to myself too.

**J: pouts**

**J: If they were both there, could we share them?**

W: No. MUAHAHAHA! 

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**J: I have the most brilliantest idea.**

W: What?

**J: Your mom should date House! (Wooster's mom is an attractive single lady who is closer to House's age than we are, shares our fondness for the blue eyed doctor, and she also has problems involving younger men who hit on her constantly)**

W: That's crazy... but amazing.

**J: Just think! He's so not sleezy like those 20-something losers.**

W: And he could help me with Bio.

**J: And he would play video games with your brother!**

W: Wait... if he dates my mom, then he can't date ME. Next idea.

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We heart instant messenger.

Candy StriperHospital Volunteer

Ok, hope you enjoyed. Tomorrow's ramble: The fluffiest fluff ever written ever….


	4. The fluffiest piece of fluff ever writte...

Disclaimer: Yes, I actually need one this time. This is the fluffiest piece of fluff ever written ever. It's in this "story" because I didn't want it to be taken seriously. So, you all know the drill. House is not mine. I can only write about him in hopes that someday David Shore will read this, take pity on me, and decide to give him to me in his will…for which I will be very thankful as I'm murdering him.

The fluffiest piece of fluff ever written ever:

Dr. House was in a dangerous mood. It was in his eyes, and the way he paced up and down the halls of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Nobody was particularly surprised. Ever since he announced that he was sick of being under the control of a stupid pill and that he was giving up vicodin (a huge shock to everyone), he'd been even more acerbic than usual. Everyone simply rolled their eyes and got out of his way. The only person who worried was Dr. Allison Cameron. She'd thought that he was finally over the withdrawal, he had been acting more himself recently, and he was handling the pain better. Just last night they had gone out to dinner and he hadn't fingered his empty pocket once…

At around noon, House stormed his way into the break room. The three ducklings looked up at him, waiting for their daily insults. In the years they had worked for him, they had become use to his atrocious bedside manner, and while the "House-boys" didn't necessarily consider themselves friends of House, they did occasionally enjoy his biting humor. They were surprised however, when House stared right at them and said "Meeting, my office, now" and stormed out again.

When they arrived in House's office, they were surprised to see that Wilson, Cuddy, and Stacy were also present. Walking in, the three sent curious looks at them, only to be answered with similarly confused stares. Nobody had any idea what was going on. Finally, House walked in.

"I've called you all in here, because I have a couple important announcements to make, and because it's important that you are all here when I make them."

"What is it, Greg? Did you forge someone's signature on the operation papers again? Because I doubt the judge will listen to me the second time."

House looked at Stacy, "No, it has nothing to do with work."

"Well then why are we all here?"

House looked annoyed, "If you let me make the announcements, it'd be perfectly obvious."

He took a deep breath. "Ok, the first announcement is that after an entire month of pain and hardship, I am OFFICIALLY off vicodin."

They watched him, knowing better than to cheer or comment. Pride showed in the faces of his friends and coworkers though, and that was plenty for him.

"My second announcement is this:" he looked each person in the room straight in the eye, ending with Cameron, "The reason I decided to give up vicodin, is so that I could do this without the aid of drugs." He placed his cane on the desk, and using the same desk as support, carefully lowered himself to his damaged knee, grimacing at the pain. Cameron stepped forward to help, but Wilson held her back, a small knowing smile on his face. House put the weight of one hand on his good knee for support, and then reached into his pocket with the other. He withdrew a small box.

"Dr. Allison Cameron," he said, his blue eyes wide with pain and nerves, "I love you. Will you marry me?"

Silence rained in the room. Shocked looks dominated everyone's faces except for Stacy's and Wilson's, who looked pleased but totally unsurprised. Cuddy, Chase and Foreman, however, were floored. They didn't even know that House and Cameron had been dating. Cameron's eyes filled with tears.

"Yes!" she said, and kissed the thoroughly relieved Dr. House soundly before snatching up the box and putting the beautiful diamond ring on her finger.

Warmth had filled Cuddy's eyes by now as she looked at the scene, but Chase and Foreman still stood, staring at House as if aliens had landed on their front lawns and were requesting a truck load of tapioca pudding. House looked at them, the sarcastic look back in his eyes, and spoke:

"What? Do you guys think you're here because you're my _friends_?" he sneered at the word, "That's what _they're _here for." He said, nodding at the others. "You're here to help me up."

**And so ends my out of character and rather goofy fluff. Tomorrow's chapter is, of course, from Jeeves, and is entitled "Disagreement" It's a personal letter to some of you other fanfiction writers. You'll know who you are…..**


	5. Disagreement

Disclaimer: Originally wrote that this was Jeeves' story and not to kill me. Jeeves yelled at me, so now i correct the statement. I also hate all of you who commited the atrocity detailed here. Especially those who said 'hazel'...die. And i say this with the utmost love and respect for all of you.

This story was written for the fanfiction writers who don't check their facts before posting….

"Disagreement"

CAMERON'S EYES ARE GREEN, DAMMIT!

Sorry for the extremely short chappie everyone! Tomorrow's chapter? 101 reasons House is completely sexy…


	6. 101 Reasons

Ok people. You'll have to wait a coupla days for the next update as Jeeves is lazy and I am going fishing.

Disclaimer: Legally, unneeded. However will warn that you are now entering scarily obsessed fan-girl territory

101 Reasons House is the Sexiest Man on Television

101. "…and the Aussie will run like a scared wombat if things turn rough."

100. He's always right. Mistakes are made by other people.

99. He doesn't care if people know who saved their lives.

98. Those blue eyes….drool

97. He's worked with the mafia.

96. Therefore he drives a '65 Red Corvette…Yum.

95. He's too bitter to smile often.

94. When he does, bones melt.

93. Oh my god, those EYES.

92. That moment in the theme song where his face is looking straight at you from that brain? Yeah.

91. American actors faking a British accent: not sexy. British actors faking an American accent: very sexy.

90. Speaking of Laurie's British accent: sexy, sexy, SEXY

89. His voice in general, low, husky, and gorgeous.

88. That scruffy look.

87. For some reason…the Nike Shox

86. Those twin pools of ice water he calls eyes.

85. His endearingly childish obsession with video games

84. Ditto his iPod

83. Ditto his TV schedule

82. Did I mention his blue eyes?

81. Because he's the only man who can wear five layers of clothes and still hit your system as hard as a guy in boxers.

80. His obsession with keeping people alive

79. His obsession with avoiding said life.

78. He inspires major loyalty in the few friends he has.

77. The eyes.

76. The simple fact that Wilson was worried about Cameron hurting House and not vise versa.

75. Complete and utter confidence in his ability

74. Complete and utter lack of confidence in himself.

73. "Everybody lies."

72. "Paging Dr. Foreman….leave the room"

71. The fact that both 73. and 72. passed his lips with the same sarcastic look.

70. That look he gave the student in _Three Lessons_ when he asked why Carmen Electra's pants were off.

69. The eyes he used to give above look.

68. Hugh Laurie made Regis Philbmin look like a complete moron when on Regis and Kelly.

67. But he bonded with Jay Leno and talked motorcycles.

66. Oh, speaking of motorcycles…he RIDES one.

65. The fact that Hugh Laurie, a well-known British comedian, can play such a jerk.

64. Back on House, he plays piano and listens to heavy metal.

63. He also listens to country, jazz, and pop. rock.

62. He hates the patients and loves the illness

61. But he saves the patients and kills the illness

60. The way he looks when he leans on the wipeboard.

59. Blue. Eyes.

58. That scene where he plays "Happy Birthday" on his piano…

57. "No I will NOT have sex with you…not again!"

56. When he took one look at the fake breasts and decided to call Wilson in for a "consult"

55. Ducklings

54. The cerulean visual organs.

53. "This guy is NOT the world's greatest dad, not even ranking. What kind of dad lets their kids play with lead based paint?"

52. As above, he ALWAYS has the last word.

51. When he stood up, looked at the judge, and told him to see a doctor about heart problems and managed to look caring for an instant.

50. AM I THE ONLY ONE OBSESSED WITH THOSE EYES?

49. The way he uses that cane to block people

48. Ditto knock things out of their hands

47. When he used the restraining order to get out of clinic duty.

46. That crazed look when he said "Maybe I'm just too STONED to tell."

45. The eyes that he widened in above crazed look.

44. He trusts no one.

43. Perversely, people are forced to trust HIM with their lives.

42. He always earns that trust.

41. He "avoids work like the plague…unless it actually IS the plague."

40. Two words: Brutally Honest.

39. Again, two words: Blue Eyes.

38. How he rests his head on the handle of his cane when stressed.

37. He's as obsessive about saving life as I am about him. Almost.

36. The fact that he looked totally disgusted with himself when he was forced to agree not to tell that girl's parents she was pregnant…"New Jersey says: You're the boss"

35. Bleu yeux

34. Chase and Foreman would probably be decent cat-burglars by now.

33. If they were ever caught in above activities, House would get a kick out of taking the stand as a character witness against them.

32. Or he would drive the getaway car.

31. The way Hugh Laurie enjoys describing House as "ornery"

30. He's ornery.

29. Ojos Azules

28. House MD may be less popular than Lost according to an online poll, (grr.) but Greg House is kicking Matthew Fox's (guy from Lost) butt! (mwahahaha)

27. He inspires fanfic writers to write things like, well, the "Piano Man" chapter in Happiness is Bliss for instance…

26. Illness is no longer a hardship, as I simply imagine House treating me.

25. Only the people who've never seen the show think that above makes me crazy.

24. His tortured soul twisting behind those bright blue eyes.

23. I would _like_ an infarction in my leg. I want a cane.

22. He makes me go huff-puff. (Name the reference, and I will write a chapter based off of whatever you want. Seriously. –Jeeves)

21. He inspired me to buy flats b/c he rejected that one chick b/c of her heels….

20. He played Journey at high volumes.

19. When Vogler was trying to speak.

18. While air-drumming.

17. I guess you've figured out I'm obsessed with his eyes…

16. General distrust for authority. (Down with the Man!)

15. "Everyone lies…except politicians?"

14. I agree, pharmaceutical companies DO just want our money.

13. Five o'clock shadow.

12. He has no emotions unless they're expressed through ivory keys.

11.Those two things on his face? I can't remember what they're called…but they're blue...

10. "I have a friend who I have to pay ten dollars every time someone tells him thank you."

9. "You're dying."

8. He reminds me of Peter Warne. (If you can post a review showing me you know who this is…I will write a chapter for this based off whatever concept you pick. It can be ANYTHING and I will do it if you know who Peter Warne is.-Wooster)

7. He reminds me of Han Solo.

6. He reminds me of Henry Higgins.

5. That brilliant dream sequence where he tells Vogler he's dying and he bought an extra large coffin…

4. Those gorgeous blue eyes.

3. That incredibly phallic cane.

2. His incredibly sexy INTELLIGENCE

and the number one reason House is the sexiest man on television?

He got Cameron a corsage.

Ok, obsessive fans that's it for today. Next chapter will be worth the wait you'll have: The Process of Obsession….


	7. Process of Madness

**Disclaimer: legally unneeded, always like to add it though. This stuff is all true, but the names have been changed to protect the stupid…I mean "innocent". Yeah. That's it….**

**The Random Quote of... Randomness**

**"I was sitting in my garage in front of a little Wurlitzer electric piano and this song popped out and started this whole train a rollin' " - Dennis DeYoung, member of the band Styx, discussing their first hit single "Lady"**

HOUSEMDHOUSEMDHOUSEMDHOUSEMDHOUSEMDHOUSEMDHOUSEMD

The Show

Our story begins on a dark and stormy night (you knew it was going to start like that, didn't you?). While the weather was raging outside, I, Jeeves, was inside sleeping off the anesthesia from my wisdom teeth extraction earlier that day. The numbness was wearing off and my mouth was beginning to hurt like bloody hell when my mother came into the room.

"There's this show I want to watch."

"What?" I moaned weakly.

"It's a medical show called House, and I heard it's really cool."

"House? What the hell kind of name is that for a show?"

She plopped down in the bed beside me and seized the remote. "Oh, shut up and take some Vicodin."

I obliged.

After the little trailer: "Hey," I said. "This is kinda cool."

Ten minutes in: "This is really cool!"

Fifteen minutes in: "Hey, he likes Vicodin as much as I do right now!"

Unfortunately, twenty minutes into my first experience with House MD, the Vicodin took effect and I rolled over and got some much-needed sleep.

My mother and I began to watch the show regularly on Tuesdays. We both thought it was the best medical show we had ever seen. We liked to make a game out of the episodes, and try to guess the disease before House did (Score: Us: 2, House: 1968982759206825)

There was only one little problem: my best friend Wooster liked to call me, unknowingly, right in the middle of my show!

"Wooster, you are interrupting my show."

"Oh, sorry."

"What are you watching right now? You should really watch this, it's _amazing_."

"Oh, nothing much..."

Wooster successfully blew off my recommendation for several weeks until I spent the night at her house (we watched star wars) and wrote her a note on her dry erase board: House, FOX, Tuesday, after American Idol.

The next week she watched it. She loved it. She quickly became as addicted as I was.

HOUSEMDHOUSEMDHOUSEMDHOUSEMDHOUSEMDHOUSEMDHOUSEMD

Wooster and I's instant messages began to consist mainly of fangirl-y squeeing about House. During one of these conversations, I thought to myself, 'I bet there's House fanfic!' I had been on several times before reading Harry Potter fanfic. I liked the site, so I began my search there.

Lo and behold, there was a rather little bit of House fanfiction on the site. I scanned the titles for something appealing, and after a brief search, I knew I had found it.

Jeeves: Wooster, I just found this amazing fanfiction.

Wooster: Eh?

Jeeves: It's called House Party-

Wooster: omg that's our term! ('Tis true, we had used the phrase "House Party" before to describe a Tuesday night viewing party)

Jeeves: -by Ruthless Bunny. But you'll never guess what the best thing about it is….

Wooster: what?

Jeeves: House has a valet named Jeeves.

I knew that Wooster would love this. Though neither of us knew anything about Hugh Laurie's resume at the time and therefore we didn't get the irony, Wooster was a big fan of the wonderful works of Wodehouse and owned all 30-something books in the Jeeves series.

Wooster: SQUEEEEE! I love it!

While Wooster read the fic for herself, I did something I had been meaning to do for a while- I looked up Hugh Laurie on the International Movie Database. What I saw there both shocked and awed me.

Jeeves: OMG!

Wooster: Whaddya want, I'm reading!

Jeeves: I just read something that will make that fic you are reading 30 ½ times better!

Wooster: What?

Jeeves: Hugh Laurie played Bertie Wooster in a British TV show called Jeeves and Wooster, based on the PG Wodehouse books!  
Wooster: OMG! faints

The next few days passed in a fangirl-y blur. We researched the show Jeeves and Wooster, Wooster acquired the entire series on VHS from her grandmother, we came up with many fanfiction ideas, and we registered on this site, becoming, officially, Jeevesandwooster. And the rest, as they say is history.

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The Fanfiction

I Have a Bad Feeling About This….

Star Wars was chosen completely at random for this fic. We had written the first chappie without the name of the fandom and we were trying to decide what Cameron would like. (Jeeves: Harry Potter? Wooster: Nah, she's a bit too old. Jeeves: How 'bout Star Wars? Wooster: Hmm… that might work.) We were only going to continue the fanfiction bit through the first chapter, but Star Wars just lent itself to jokes so well and everything kind of went in another direction from there…

We know House is 45 because Hugh Laurie is 45. I personally think it would be cool if Cam was born on the day the first Star Wars came out in 1977- making her 28, about the right age for an intern.

I can't tell you too much about patient Mark Dallas except for the fact that my mom had what he has.

Just try and count all the Star Wars references in this. There are so many.

We watched the Han and Leia kiss scene approximately seven times until we memorized it.

For lack of a better prop, we did use a Swiffer Sweeper as a cane proxy to figure out how House would sit down, because authors have to be omniscient.

Friday the 13th

This one-shot for the holiday came into Wooster's warped little mind in chemistry.

Yes, it is loosely based on the movie. No, not the Lindsey Lohan one.

Our friend Allyce invented adding the phrase "in bed" to the end of fortune cookies. Can't you see Chase doing that?

Candy is Dandy, but…

Wooster actually saw a shot checkers set in Bed, Bath, and Beyond once.

We would love to get House drunk.

Why House hates My Fair Lady will be discussed in a later fic. We love My Fair Lady. A lot.

The girl who was House's first kiss is, well, essentially me, Jeeves. I would love to have House in my chemistry class.

We became our personas Jeeves and Wooster due to this fic- Wooster posted it without running it by me first, a very Wooster thing to do. So that's why we call her Wooster now.

The showing of the leg bit was a long time in coming- we have always wanted to do something like that. I have always had this mental image of how his leg should look- in the book Seabiscuit; they describe the game leg of jockey Red Pollard as looking like "a charred, knobby broomstick". I suppose we ended up describing it differently, though. Medical Food for Thought: If the infarction was in House's thigh, wouldn't the necrotic tissue have been all the way down his leg, therefore, wouldn't the whole leg be wasted, not just the thigh?

Ramblings

Umm… we're just crazy.

Jukebox

Expect crazy, fabulous music in this series of songfics chronicling the House and Cameron relationship, everything from show tunes to indie rock.

Future Projects

I Have a Bad Feeling About This will be finished.

More ramblings.

Jukebox could go on as long as we want it to.

Some fluffy fluff.

Three companion fics exploring the whole My Fair Lady thing…

Any suggestions?

**Wooster would like it to be known that I would have started watching the show EARLIER if Jeeves had stopped harping on about how cool the MED stuff was and told me how HOT the main character was. I mean, I like med drama and all, but I was kinda bored with it after several seasons of mom forcing me to watch ER with her… Next chappie is from me: and it's a sequel to the fluffiest fluff at the request of my contest winner cheesystar. Love ya!**


	8. Fluff mach 2

**Ok, ladies and gentleman, here's the chapter as requested by cheesystar, winner of my little contest…**

…**the fluffiest fluff ever written ever mark two!**

Disclaimer: House is not mine. Cameron is not mine. The show in which they belong are not mine. Becky is mine though, and you CANT HAVE HER! She is MY ray of sunshine, so back off.

**Warning: Due to the extreme fluffyness of this piece, it is inadvisable to read if you have currently had major surgery not presided over by sexy blue-eyed doctors.**

She was nervous…extremely nervous.

Before meeting Dr. Gregory House, Allison could have counted the number of times she was truly nervous on one hand. Since she had met him…well, she could now count the number of times she was NOT nervous on one hand.

But she always stopped counting when she hit her ring finger. Something, a golden-band-and-diamond something, always distracted her.

Today, however, she was far more nervous than she had been any of those other times. She was more nervous than she had been when she'd come in for that fateful interview, having heard rumors of the "difficult" Dr. House. She was more nervous than she'd been when she'd asked him, haltingly, if he liked her. She was even more nervous than she'd been on the wedding day, before he had made that sarcastic comment about Wilson's tux and dissipated the bizarre tension in the air.

Her nerves were so tightly wound that she nearly dropped her coffee mug on the floor when Drs. Foreman and Chase entered the room.

"Well, hello…Dr. House," said Chase jeeringly, as he had everyday since she had married their gruff and sarcastic boss. As per his usual response, Foreman hit him upside the head, and Dr. House, Dr. _Gregory _House, who had followed them in, whacked him with his cane. Some of the tension in Allison's stomach eased a little as her husband, man how she loved that word, gave her a slight smile as he walked over to the wipe-board.

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He looked up briefly as she walked into his office. He knew that she would say whatever she had to say in her own time, so he continued to play his video game. The gold on his ring finger glinted in the sun as he casually maneuvered the frog through the obstacles of moving trucks and sports cars, watching his wife out of the corner of his eye.

His office was much the same as it had been three years ago, when she had first come to work here at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. His desk was strewn with papers, the shelves lined with taped episodes of General Hospital and various diversions to keep him entertained while avoiding Cuddy and clinic duty, and his television stood haphazardly in the middle of the room. But there were some small changes, she smiled at a picture of the two of them on their honeymoon, stretched out on a beach content not to go anywhere for a while. Borrowing confidence from the rare smile displayed by Greg in the picture, she turned to face the real thing.

"Greg?"

He looked up. So it was something personal. She only called him by his first name when at home or talking about something personal. No reason to give Cuddy an excuse to blackmail House into even MORE clinic duty. _I _might _overlook the fact your relationship, a relationship I might add with an employee, is interfering with your work if you put in a couple more hours everyday…_He could just picture it, that woman loved to torment him.

"Yes, Allison, what is it?"

She paused for a second, looking at him, weighing, judging. She took a deep breath, then, and looked straight into his brilliant blue eyes. "I'm…we're….we're going to have a baby, Greg. I'm pregnant, the doctor confirmed it yesterday." She refused to tear her eyes away from his, refused to fear his reaction.

He stared at her for a second, looking into those green eyes. His face then broke into a grin larger than she had ever seen. He jumped up, or as close to jumping as he could with his leg, and grabbed her in a fierce hug.

If she saw a couple of joyful tears in his eyes, she said nothing. She was married to him now, any blots in his reputation reflected on her as well.

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It was a wonder they hadn't kicked him out of the delivery room. She wasn't sure SHE would have allowed him to stay if he had been talking to HER like that. The doctors had been totally competent, after all, and probably didn't appreciate being criticized and harassed by the father. Allison chuckled weakly as she recalled how Greg had threatened to beat them unconscious with his cane and finish the delivery himself, then proceeded to alternate between derision (I bet you skated through medical school on your boyfriend's notes) and general cynicism (You're only in this job because it's the closest thing you'll ever get to sex. Quit touching my wife!) The nurses must've been hand selected by the hospital staff for their ability to withstand abuse as soon as it was known that Dr. Gregory House was an expectant father.

He had stood by her through the entire thing, making sarcastic comments about how she was probably regretting taking up with him, knowing that they were more soothing than any words of comfort he could give her. She had managed a weak smile then, and had wheezed out that she was going to run off with Wilson as soon as she was out of there. He grinned hugely at the statement, and some of the tension, if not the pain, rolled off of her.

He hadn't had a single snarky comment, however, when they had placed the small bundle in his arms. He walked over to the bed, holding his tiny daughter as if she were made of the most fragile of glass, trying not to jar her as he limped over to the hospital bed where Allison lay, exhausted and elated. He gingerly laid her in her mother's arms.

"Our Rebecca, our sweet little Rebecca."

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"Daddy?"

"Mmm?" said Gregory House, lost in the world of Mozart as his fingers stroked the keys.

"Daddy, do you remember what day it is tomorrow?"

House turned to face his four-year-old daughter, still stroking the keys, but now playing a Disney tune for her benefit. She giggled as she recognized "Friend Like Me", but did not sing along as she normally would. She was on a mission.

"What day would that be, Becky?"

"Take your daughter to work day!"

He grimaced slightly. He adored his daughter, and would go to the ends of the Earth to satisfy her slightest whim. That was the problem. If she was at work with him, then he would obliterate the carefully constructed façade of the misanthropic bastard who was married through a mistake and probably locked his child in the closet when not using her for slave labor. He geared himself up to refuse her, to convince her to stay home with mommy and the soon-to-be baby brother instead, but one look at her sweet blue-green eyes had him cursing softly under his breath.

"Fine, but you have to pretend that it's perfectly normal for me to chain you to my desk, ok? I have a reputation to maintain."

She beamed at him, gave him a big kiss that smelled of bubblegum toothpaste, and rushed of to bed, yelling "Thanks, daddy!" over her shoulder.

"Becky?" she stopped and looked back, "Make sure you call me 'master' and not 'daddy' tomorrow."

He listened to her giggles as she closed the door to her room. He was so screwed.

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"Alright, eggs-n-beckers, do you remember what I told you?"

"Yes daddy!"

"Well, let's hear it," he said as he reached over and undid her safety belt.

"I'm supposed to yell really loudly asking why Uncle James is looking at the pretty lady's bottom. When you're trying to hide from the evil devil lady Cutty, I'm supposed to tell her that you are in the men's room and that her butt looks big in her pants. The guy with the weird accent has candy in his pockets and will only give them to me if I pour chocolate milk on his head. The big black guy is a master criminal and I have to run and scream 'rape' whenever he tries to speak to me," she rattled off, her eyes closed in concentration.

"And?" he asked grinning.

"And Stacy loves playing catch with the tennis balls and to throw her one whenever she comes in your office with a big stack of papers and a mean look because it cheers her up?"

"Good girl," he said fondly. Maybe this day wouldn't be so bad after all.

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Chase and Foreman were very shocked to find a small girl in the office, wearing a jacket much to big for her and holding House's bright red coffee mug.

"Ok, sit down, we have a big case today. What are you two staring at?" she glared at them, "Fine, I get it, I'm not the most handsome man in the world, but it's not surprising my face has lost it's yooful sple…splend…"

"_Splendor,"_ whispered a voice under the table, "_Youthful splendor!"_

"Oh! It's not surprising my face has lost its yooful splendor having to look at your ugly mugs day after day!" She beamed. "Did I do it right daddy?" she asked anxiously, looking under the table.

Following her gaze, Chase and Foreman were greeted with the site of Dr. Gregory House, lying under the table with a huge grin plastered on his face. "You were _supposed_ to pretend I wasn't hear, silly." He pulled himself out from under the table. "Pass me my cane baby-girl."

Chase and Foreman were completely thrown off. This was House's daughter? Most of the time they liked to pretend that House (they would never dare call him by his first name, no matter how long they'd known him) and Allison's relationship was a joke that would soon be aired on_ Candid Camera_. They'd been pretending as much for the past five years. It disturbed Chase especially that his grumpy boss had taken part in any activities that would result in a child between him and the kind and sweet Allison Cameron House.

"What are you two staring at? Didn't you hear Dr. Rebecca? We have a case!"

They settled into their chairs, but Foreman had to ask: "What is she doing here?"

"It's take your daughter to work day!" she explained before House could answer, "and I'M going to figure out what's wrong with the patient FIRST!"

Chase rolled his eyes towards Foreman. Silently they agreed. Sweet as candy and as egotistical as Napoleon, this was definitely Allison and House's kid.

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Foreman paused in his prowling as his beeper went off, recognizing Chase's number, he changed directions for the break room. On his way there, he ran into Chase, standing next to the door of the lab and fighting hard not to laugh. At the rate he was going, he was likely to snap a few ribs in the process

"What the hell-" Foreman began, but Chase cut him off and yanked him out of view of the door, which was open slightly. _Listen _he mouthed silently to Foreman. He gave Chase an odd look and then cocked his ear towards the door. At first he didn't hear anything, but slowly, the sound Chase was referring to reached his ears. He couldn't resist leaning around the door to make sure he wasn't hearing things. There was Rebecca Ann House, sitting on the counter in the lab, tears in her eyes and a scrape on her knee, and Dr. House was bustling around gathering band-aids and anti-septic gel…and singing.

_Gray skies are gonna clear up, put on a happy face._

_Brush off the clouds and cheer up, put on a happy face._

_When you are feeling cross and bicker-ish, don't sit and whine._

_Think of banana splits and licorice, and you'll feel fine._

Foreman's eyes grew wide and Chase snickered even harder.

"No one's going to believe us, you know," he said, eyes still glued to the strange scene before him.

"That's what this is for," said Chase slyly. Foreman looked down to see that Chase had a mini-camcorder, with which he was recording the scene for posterity…and blackmail.

"You are brilliant, you know that?" asked Foreman as they watched House gently blow on the girl's knee before placing the band-aid over it and kissing her tear-streaked cheek. "Absolutely brilliant"

"What's so brilliant?" came a voice from behind them. As one, the two doctors turned to find a woman in a tight-fitting, low-cut shirt and a very stern expression. Silently, they held out the camera. Inside the lab, they could hear House getting back to work on the labs while his daughter asked him a million questions.

Cuddy's eyes widened as she watched the scene on the camera's little screen. Without another word, she pressed the eject button and removed the disc from the slot.

"Hey!" exclaimed Dr. Chase, "We needed that!"

"I don't think so," was her cool reply, "this hospital cannot withstand the negative publicity of a double homicide. And House is too important to this department to be lost to a prison cell for a life sentence." _Plus, this material was too good to be wasted on the two House-boys._

The 'House-boys' as they were still referred to by the entire hospital staff, sulked as they watched Dr. Cuddy walk off with their one chance of getting back at their boss. That is, until Wilson, who'd been watching the entire scene from his nearby office (a/n don't know if Wilson's office is anywhere near the lab, it was simply convenient to put it there) walked up to them with a manila envelope, dropped it at their feet, winked, and walked off whistling. Curious, they picked up the envelope and pulled out the VHS within. Reading the label, they grinned after Jimmy Wilson, and rushed off to begin their diabolical plans.

"Rebecca's first piano lesson with daddy" it said, in Cameron's girly but precise hand.

Ok, y'all that's it. My fluffy sequel. I hope you all enjoyed it. I got a kick out of writing it. Yes, I based House's daughter after one of my best friends…so sue me. She was so perfect for the roll, I just couldn't resist. And we do call her Becky and eggs-n-Beckers…as well as Becca, Becky-boo, and various other cutesy names. You have no idea how well it suits her, despite her being teen-aged.

Please note: misspellings in Becca's dialogue is intentional. Just FYI


	9. The Doctor is NOT in

Good day, ladies and gentlemen. Jeeves here with another installment of Ramblings. No, it is not my contest winner chapter… my sincerest apologies to the winner of my contest, but I seem to have lost my notes for that particular fic, and my mind as well. Wooster wishes to inform you all that she has another Ramble that she wouldn't post until I posted this. So meh.

As you may know if you have read the end of Auld Lang Syne (if you haven't read it, go do so IMMEDIATELY), Wooster spent a month at a fine arts summer camp, leaving me home alone. She has only just returned and is sleeping it off. However, as was also mentioned in the A/N of Auld Lang Syne, I have a rather interesting summer volunteer job at the local academic medical center.

I'm volunteering with the Director of Surgical Pathology, doing wonderful things like assisting with data entry for research for an academic paper; filing slides, tissue blocks, and papers; and assorted other gopher-type tasks.

I'm also learning quite a lot. It would be potentially of interest to know that if you Google "Department of Diagnostic Medicine", other than sites devoted to House you will turn up mostly websites for pathology departments. The type of medicine House practices, as much fun and entertainment as it is for us fans, does not exist in the real world. A medical diagnosis comes from a large and varied team of many doctors in many departments, not merely four doctors who can somehow perform every test. In the real world, the Pathology department would perform a vital role in many of the diagnoses that House makes.

But House still makes for damn good TV.

Anyway, enough of my soapbox for today. This ramble is a love song to my job. More accurately, it is an account of some of the things that happen to me when I am working on my spreadsheet and people come looking for my boss, who has a tendency to disappear, written in verse somewhere stylistically between a beat poet and Shel Silverstein.

The Doctor is Not In

Um, he's not here right now.

No, I don't know where he went.

No, I don't know when he will be back. It could be ten minutes, it could be two hours. I wouldn't advise waiting.

Oh, so you want to wait? Well, you can sit there, I guess.

You say you have to get back to your work? Well, I can tell him you came by. He might page you.

(he probably won't)

I don't think I can sign for that package, I'm just a volunteer.

I'm not even sure if that person works in this department…

There's someone over there that can- Wait, you say you'll just leave it there?

OK.

You say you'll come back later and see it he's back?

OK, but you might want to take a number or something because I'm sure there will be a line of people waiting to talk to him.

He's a very popular person.

Ok, so a story update:

I've Got a Bad Feeling About This and Auld Lang Syne are finished. Go read them now!

You Pyg, our pride and joy, is in progress. You should definitely read it!

We're seeking a House fanfic community that will let us post Jukebox, since ffn is so stingy about songfic… any suggestions?

Exploitation, Wooster's Harry Potter story is now located on I think that's the site…

For all of our readers who happen to be Phantom Phans, I have a phanphic in its very early stages…

Stay tuned for more from jeevesandwooster!

Oh, and a special thank you to the wonderful Ethan Poe, who was beta-ing this chappie while I was Wooster-less.

Wooster here! Tired but raring to write. Fine Arts camp was full of nutsos to inspire me, so be prepared for my upcoming ramble…"House-coming".


	10. Housecoming

1**Disclaimer: Hello, House fanatics! This particular fic comes from the 'You Pyg!' universe, which I hope you have read b/c we have been BLATANTLY PLUGGING IT since we wrote it. Please, go read and review it. Reviews are our anti-drug. We live just north of the Meth capital of the US. It is pathetically easy for us to score drugs if we so desired. Please don't be responsible for the rapid decline of two youthful, brilliant minds such as ours. Oh, wait. I'm getting off subject. House M.D. is owned by David Shore...and he won't share, the jerk.**

**A/N: Any of you guys see 'Inside the Actor's Studio' with Hugh Laurie on Bravo Aug. 1st? Ack! Fangirl squeals were prevalent in my house that night. Watching it did three things for me: 1. Made me hate James Lipton (that pompous $) more than ever. 2. Confirmed, once again, that Hugh is the sexiest man in television. 3. Gave me a feeling of pride as about twenty of our 101 reasons were confirmed by Hugh Laurie _personally_. Excellent.**

Ramblings Ten: "House-coming"

"Aw, honey, you look so handsome."

Greg House glared at his mother, who bit her tongue to keep herself from laughing. The comment had been carefully manufactured to irritate the hell out of her youngest son. She smiled as she adjusted his tie for him and tried to make his hair do something constructive, 'It's certainly true, though,' she thought. He impatiently batted her hands away and went to go look in the mirror.

"So who's this girl who you're going with, again?" she asked impishly, silently blessing the girl for giving her this rare opportunity to get a rise out of her son.

Greg stopped looking in the mirror and checked his watch, avoiding his mom's smirking glance. "For the billionth time: her name's Gabriella Clemons and she plays opposite me in the musical. I wouldn't be going to this stupid thing if I weren't subjected to her presence for three hours a day, five days a week. There's a reason everyone calls her 'Gabby'. I'm simply preserving what's left of my sanity, so you can wipe that damn grin off your face."

Unfazed, his mother calmly remarked 'Language, dear' and grabbed him one more time to look him over before standing and brushing wrinkles out of her nursing uniform. She'd have to go straight to work after he was picked up by his date. She bit back a giggle as she thought of her prickly son being picked up by his date, who'd also been the one to ask him out.

As he checked his watch again and then adjusted his tie in the mirror she couldn't help but comment, "Your insistence that you are going against your will would be a lot more believable if you weren't so obviously nervous."

"Or if you hadn't bought her a corsage with your own money," chipped in Chris as he popped into the room to grab his car keys off the dresser. "Cute, by the way. Saw it in the fridge as I was grabbing an apple for the drive to work." Greg was about to serve his brother with a biting comment about his minimum-wage job and a suggestion of where he could stick his apple that would have had his mom giving him a taste test of lye soap when the sound of a car pulling into the driveway stopped him short. He glanced out the window to see a slight, pretty, brown-haired girl in a loudly colored dress pop out of the driver's seat of a brown Vista Cruiser and bounce up to the front door. His mom watched, smiling, as he ran off to fetch the corsage from the fridge. Catching up to him, she straightened his tie one last time before the door bell rang. He paused, and looked at her wide eyed, one hand on the doorknob.

"You don't think the corsage is lame?" he asked quietly.

Mrs. House glanced out at the beaming girl waiting on the porch. "Don't worry 'bout it, kid," she said, smiling fondly at her son, "I think she likes lame."

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Greg was about ready to shoot himself.

They'd gone to a cheesy Japanese steakhouse, which wasn't too bad…except that it hadn't just been him and Gabby. They'd tripled…triple, that's _three_ couples…with all of her crazy friends from their acting class. 'Actors,' he thought, irritated, 'may as well count as three couples EACH for all the noise they make.' He conveniently forgot that, having the lead role in the school musical, he was technically an actor too.

The other two couples consisted of Tom, Allie and John-and-Ainsy. Tom Zuko was a shorter blond guy with a wide smile and a love for thirties-style outfits…down, or rather up, to the zoot suit-esque hat. Allie Calhoun, his date, was bold and flirtatious with gypsy-like dark brown hair that curled loosely to just past her shoulders. Most of the drama class called her 'Sexy Allie' though it was more because of her outgoing, likeable personality than her looks, (though they weren't bad either). John North and Ainsy Aberforth had been the 'hot couple' most of this year. Any individual personality they'd had to begin with had therefore somehow been molded into one single set of characteristics encompassing the both of them. John-and-Ainsy were bright and fun, but spent most of the time staring at each other, cuddling each other, and teasing and/or talking about each other.

Gabby was her usual self. She beamed at everyone, chattered incessantly, (though Greg had to admit she never talked over anybody, always made sure others took part in the conversation, and listened when she wasn't speaking), and generally had a good time. She artfully steered discussion away from John-and-Ainsy's back-and-forth compliments, and had everyone talking about movies, music, and, to Greg's irritation, the musical. While he believed that NO straight man enjoyed Abba, or at least admitted to it, had personally not thought 'Rocky Horror Picture Show' worth all the fuss of _dressing up_, and wasn't particularly interested in the trailers for that space film coming out this summer, (though he _had_ really enjoyed 'American Graffiti'), he would have preferred continued talk about those subjects than to be hassled into quoting lines from the musical he'd been practicing FOR THE PAST MONTH AND A HALF!

By the end of dinner, his brain was pounding and he wished he had swiped some of the brandy his mom kept in the medicine cabinet in case of emergencies. After they paid their bill, Gabby tipped the waitress an extravagant 25, (her mother was a waitress, and she was adamant about compensating good service towards rowdy teenagers with a large gratuity) and they packed themselves back into the car and headed for the dance.

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"From the way you've avoided dancing-or even leaving your chair-for the entirety of the dance, people will think you've got a bum leg."

Greg glanced up as Gabby smiled brightly at him and sat down in the chair next to him. "All the songs so far have been crap."

"True enough," she said, "It's a school dance; it goes with the territory. Still fun to dance to."

"I can't dance."

"You dance fine in rehearsal."

"I don't _like _dancing," he growled, irritated with her for pressing.

"Then why come to a dance?" she said, still fixing him with that humor-filled grin. That slightly smug, triumphant look was just enough to tick him off.

"I didn't want to come to the dance in the first place!" he hissed at her. "And the fact that I was nagged into it by a nosy, noisy chatterbox who won't leave well enough alone does NOT change that fact in the slightest!"

It wiped the grin off her face, but it didn't make him feel good.

Gabby rose, and opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't seem to find the words. Instead, she nodded curtly and walked off. Greg stared after her, not sure what had just happened. He'd known her for two months now. Though she was generally liked, you couldn't chatter incessantly, be in advanced placement classes, and sing show tunes in the hallways and not be teased and ragged on in high school. He'd witnessed many small acts of unprovoked cruelty directed at her and had never even seen her flinch.

But he could swear he'd seen a tear trickling down her cheek just then.

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He found her in a dark hallway just outside the gymnasium doors, but far enough away that there was no chance of a random passerby noticing the slim girl cradling her knees in her arms and softly singing to herself. Her head rested wearily against the wall behind her, her eyes closed, and though she wasn't crying, he could see she had been. He supposed she found the song bitterly ironic, and was surprised how much it hurt to hear something normally so cheerful sung with the hushed, harsh sound of someone who'd recently been crying.

_I could have danced all night,_

_I could have danced all night,_

_And still have begged for more…_

He took a deep breath. He hadn't meant it. He really hadn't. Now he had to deal with this.

He hated apologizing.

"Women are irrational, that's all there is to that! Their heads are full of cotton, hay, and rags. They're nothing but exasperating, irritating, vacillating, calculating, agitating, maddening and infuriating hags!" he said, conversationally, and rose his eyebrows at her when her eyes shot open.

"You forgot emotional," she snapped bitterly.

"That's not part of the script."

"It becomes a part of it when you throw someone's insecurities in their face until they're a sopping headache-y crying mess."

"I know your head aches; I know you're tired; I know your nerves are as raw as meat in a butcher's window. But think what you're trying to accomplish. Think what you're dealing with."

She threw her arms up in disgust, popping to her feet, more mad now than upset. "I'm dealing with an insufferable head case who won't stop quoting his own lines at me and is without a doubt the RUDEST person I've met!"

"The question is not whether I've treated you rudely but whether you've ever heard me treat anyone else better."

She glared at him. Then, shakily, she started to laugh. When she finally calmed down, she looked at him and shook her head. "You are unbelievable you know that? Completely unbelievable."

"I know," he said, "I'm sorry, ok? I just find this whole dance, and you, extremely overwhelming."

She giggled a bit. "I guess I can see that. I don't…try to be irritating."

He blew out a disgusted breath. "You aren't. I'm just an unsociable misanthrope. Always have been, always will be. Just like Higgins I guess."

"High schools are nefarious for type-casting," she agreed.

"I imagine you're wishing you went for Freddy Einsford-Hill instead? I'm sure Charlie would have danced all night with you."

"He would be the smarter choice. But Eliza returns to Higgins at the end, and somehow I still only want to dance with you."

Greg looked at his feet. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to deal with this girl. She was so…nice. He didn't understand why she would possibly waste all that time on him. He wasn't nice at all.

But he supposed he could try. After all, he did agree to be her Homecoming date.

"Would you like to dance, Gabby?"

She took his hand and smiled at him. "Yeah."

**A/N: Who is Gabby Clemons? Why are we writing a story where House's love interest is not Allison Cameron? Why is my author's note comprised entirely of questions so far? I will answer two questions and leave the other unanswered. It's comprised of questions because I want it to be. Cameron can not possibly be more than three years old at this time, and may not even be born yet, to tell the truth. Besides which, everyone is entitled to a high school sweetheart that doesn't last beyond but is still meaningful. And who is she? READ YOU PYG AND FIND OUT!**


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